


Paying it Forward

by Alistra (ALeaseInWonderland)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton Made a Different Call, Gen, In Heels, One Shot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Run boy run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALeaseInWonderland/pseuds/Alistra
Summary: Vague timeline: Hydra and the Triskelion have fallen.Stark and Rogers have a shaky truce, the latter spending most of his time and resources to locate Bucky Barnes, last seen breaking his HYDRA programming when he saved Rogers from the Potomac river. Steve's friends help where they can, but it's nigh impossible to find a rogue, recovering Winter Soldier who doesn't want to be found.Or is it?Be_Compromised Bingo Challenge 2020, Square C5: "A Different Call"
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18
Collections: be_compromised Bingo Collection





	Paying it Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to CloudAtlas for being the wind beneath my wings. By which I mean my magnificent and tireless beta. All remaining errors are the bits where I refused to take her completely valid advice. Because of reasons. 
> 
> Dedicated to Woodkid for making the song _Run Boy Run_ [(Spotify link)](https://open.spotify.com/track/0boS4e6uXwp3zAvz1mLxZS) or [(YouTube link)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmc21V-zBq0) which I highly reccommend as soundtrack to reading this.

Heavy boots are eating up the distance between rooftops at a reckless speed, causing birds to abandon their perches and scatter to the four winds with panicked squawks. Where a minute ago buildings were huddled against each other like the shady characters they are sheltering, the gaps now grow increasingly further apart as alleys widen.

Jumping them becomes more precarious but there is no time for hesitation. With a desperate cry, he throws his weight forward, just barely making it to the dusty ledge opposite. Combat boots are not made for scaling walls, his feet can't find any toe-hold, but at the last second, one hand at least manages to snag the protruding ledge of a rain gutter. The wrenched pipes give a piercing cry as metal meets metal, artificial digits clawing in and heaving him onto the ledge with inhuman strength. Panting hard with his back to the concrete, a quick glance confirms there is no time to catch his breath. In the distance, but quickly gaining ground, a lithe, black-clad silhouette is sprinting ever closer, the fluttering shock of her red hair like a blazing trail.

He finds his feet, keeps running.

Cracked, crooked, uneven pieces of roof slide beneath his feet. He avoids tripping but is thrown out of the metronomous pounding of feet and has to quickly adjust to jump something that might be an AC unit.

Two more buildings until the river. It's gonna be a steep drop.

He's got a bad track record when it comes to falling from great heights.

How long has he been running? No unenhanced human could have kept up with him this long but there’s no time for contemplation. Fleeing is easier than thinking; his body's responses are on auto-pilot, lungs burning from the strain as he attempts yet another burst of speed.

The last roof's edge looms.

Only a brief hissing noise announces the projectile before an arrow embeds itself in the ground right before him, causing him to stumble. He almost tumbles right over the edge from sheer surprise.

Gasping, he cautiously peers down.

On a boat bobbing serenely on the river, the archer stands waiting, his stance skillfully compensating for the gentle rocking. The unwavering tip of an arrow glints like a deadly promise.

"Yes, he is definitely going to hit you before you ever make it into the water." A pleasant, slightly breathless alto confirms his thoughts from behind.

He adjusts his frustrated expression until it approximates a smile, slowly raising his hands as he turns around to face his pursuer.

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Barnes." The Black Widow's smile is as devoid of good cheer as his own. "You really make a girl work for a minute of your time."

"Sorry, lady, I'm not really looking for a relationship right now," he replies, pretending nonchalance while keeping a careful eye on the gun in her hand. Apart from tangled strands of hair sticking to the fine sheen of sweat on her face and her quickened breath, his opponent appears frustratingly put together.

"That's not the kind of proposition I have for you." A finely shaped brow arches as she gives him a blatant once-over. "Although who knows, if you play your cards right..."

He snorts, lowering his hands as he perches on the shallow wall fencing in the roof. It puts his back to the marksman below but at this point he doesn't even care. If they wanted him dead, they'd have acted on that before now.

"Does that line usually work for you?" he asks, banter as good a way as any to buy himself a short respite. Now that he's sitting down, he's becoming more aware of the way his muscles are burning, how sweat makes his clothes pull tight.

"You'd be surprised how often it does," she replies, posture alert. However the quirk of her smile is hinting at something more genuine.

He nods, fighting the urge to grin back, but the glint in her eye says she saw it anyway. "I'm gonna give you one smoke's time to gimme your pitch." Pointedly relaxed, he slowly moves for the side pocket of his black cargo pants.

The warning shot echoes off the surrounding concrete, bullet lodged in the wall a hand's breadth from his thigh. Arrested in mid-motion he glances at the shallow scrape on the back of his hand caused by a suddenly airborne chip of brick.

"Oh please. You haven't smoked since 1944," the Widow says, gun once again trained securely on his center mass. Her expressive eyebrow signals mild disappointment. "Keep your hands where I can see them, please."

He rolls his shoulders in annoyance but obediently raises both palms in her direction. Smirking, she takes a step back, too aware of his reach should he decide to jump her. Damn, but she has his number. She's also dressed to distract, that much is clear, there can't be a better reason for a suit as tight as hers; much less for a neckline that low. Assessing her from top to bottom, his expression falters briefly as he reaches her boots.

Fucking hell, she not only caught up to him, she did so in  _ heels _ .

"We have a mutual friend who is looking for you," she tells him, and even though it's neither a surprise nor even news, something cold coils in his chest.

"False intel. All my friends are dead." He valiantly tries for bored indifference, but there's no denying the bitter weariness in his voice.

"Yeah, this friend is the stubborn type. I doubt he'd let something like death deter him."

He barks a humorless laugh; ain't that the truth.

The click of the safety catch is too loud for his enhanced hearing to miss and he watches incredulously as she pointedly holsters her gun against her thigh. "I won't insult your intelligence by pretending that I wasn't sent to kill you; this was never considered a rescue mission."

"And you think talking me to death will do the trick?" he says conversationally, imperceptibly readying himself to jump. If he stays low to avoid the inevitable arrows from below, he can take out her legs and slit her throat with the spring-knife up his sleeve in fifteen seconds tops.

Maybe twenty, if she's as good in close combat as he's coming to suspect.

"I'm saying there's another way this can go. I'm offering you a chance to choose, James," she says, and he hasn't been called by that name in so long, it takes a second to realize what she means. "A chance to keep making your own choices. Starting right now. It's a one-time offer."

For a long moment they try to read each other. There seems to be no point in making himself appear more winded than he is, and it doesn't escape him that she's staying precisely out of reach for a clean attack.

"Why?" he asks at long last. "If what you say is true and you know me so well, why take the risk?"

She visibly ponders the question, briefly chewing her lip before flexing her fingers in annoyance as she catches herself being so transparent.

"Because I'm also making my own choices. And today, I am choosing to make a different call." A small, challenging smile steals over her face.

"I may have regained some of my memories, but you're mad if you think you could ever trust me," he says with conviction. "I can't even trust myself."

"Funny, I said that once, too," she smirks. "Think of it as me paying it forward."


End file.
